


Winter Rose

by Fatespeaker



Series: Wings of Fire: Changing Seasons [3]
Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Adventure, Drama, Family, Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, IceWings (Wings of Fire), Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatespeaker/pseuds/Fatespeaker
Summary: Winter has no choice. After Queen Snowfall sentences Icicle to an unimaginable fate, he must help her in a daring escape from the dungeons. But winds of change are shaking the Ice Kingdom, as IceWings from all over the kingdom finally fight back against their cruel rulers. In the IceWing palace itself, ancient secrets come to the light that could change everything.Hailstorm and Lynx remain his loyal friends, but Winter will need even more help if this impossible jailbreak is to happen. An unlikely ally could be just the dragon they need... or a dangerous plotter with secret plans of her own. As the escape unravels and the palace whispers of outrage and rebellion, Winter and his friends find that they may be playing with fire.(Sequel to Winter Returning.)
Series: Wings of Fire: Changing Seasons [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852768
Comments: 21
Kudos: 30





	1. The Verdict

Winter had known what was coming. Had tried to prepare for it. Tried to freeze off his heart, his mind, his desperately shuffling wings and bring back the stoic face that had served him for so long. If there was any time that he needed to slip on and icy, loveless mask, it was now. For her sake.

But hearing that hiss. Those words. That verdict...

It rattled him like a glacial wind, shook him down to his bones, and broke the heart that he had tried so hard to freeze solid. Good thing his family and tribe had both disowned him, because the open rage and flagrant disobedience that he showed right then was, as his mother would say, "a disgrace to every IceWing in history!"

Winter didn't care. He rushed out of the council chambers, shoving rudely past all the other spectators with rough, uncaring wings. Though technically against the rules of the court, nobody really noticed his defiant exit. He was a nobody now, after all, relegated to the lowest benches, the ones roughly hewn from rock and ice, seated with the invisible classes of servants and lower-circlers.

Numb with shock, he fought his way through the packed corridors of the inner palace, pushing and pushing through servants and nobles alike until he came to the fresh air of a courtyard. There he stopped, and remembered, and felt sick and furious all over again.

Queen Snowfall had worn her finest crown for the occasion, an intricate masterpiece of glass that showed off her kingdom's cruel beauty. Every scale polished to a blinding sheen, every talon sharpened to a deadly point, she was there to make an impression. Her council was, as usual, seated around her with unfurled wings, all looking deceptively powerful and confident considering the fact that any one of them could be dismissed at her instant command.

The chambers of the inner palace - the place of the trial, had been draped with banners of menacing dark blue. The color of IceWing blood, the sign of a trial for treason. It was clear to even the lowest of the tribe that Snowfall wanted this day, and this verdict, remembered.

"The prissssoner," she had hissed, dragging out the word with torturous leisure, "is found guilty and sentenced to the Breaking."

 _The Breaking._ Winter had only heard that term in history scrolls and ghost stories, and in a cruel trick of fate, it had usually been Icicle telling those terrifying stories. This ancient punishment, unheard of since the time of Queen Snowfox, was the kind of thing only whispered of and shuddered at today. The thought of it happening to any dragon, even Icicle, _especially_ Icicle...

Winter wanted to throw up.

Eventually, the trial was officially concluded, and the rest of the audience came streaming out. Some had come out of curiosity, others seeking some twisted sort of entertainment, but all now left in bad spirits. It was somewhat healing for Winter to see all the disgust and discomfort written on their faces. Even the servants, usually quietly happy to see a First Circle dragon get what she deserved, were twitching and growling as they left. Nobody wanted to see torture return to the Ice Kingdom. Except, apparently, for its ruthless young queen.

A shadow passed over the courtyard as Snowfall and her council soared out of the chambers in perfect, predatory formation. Only they, the highest-ranked IceWings of all, had the right to exit by flight, and only the queen could fly at the head of their sparkling "V". They flew a ceremonial circle around the palace, spiraling down as if closing in on a wounded animal, to announce the official end of the trial. For a few moments, white wings filled the gray sky, and the whole palace watched in awe.

Somewhere, deep in the chambers of the inner palace - the rancid guts of the kingdom, Icicle was being led away in chains. She probably showed no emotions, probably stood strong in the face of the horrors that awaited her. For better or worse, she had always been the thickest sheet of ice in the family.

Hailstorm, who was a strong contender for second on that list, was one of the last grim-faced dragons to slink out. Though he had been a key witness in the original trial, Winter's brother had not been allowed to speak this time. By meddling with Icicle's first trial, Tundra has inadvertently doomed her daughter to an infinitely worse fate; Snowfall could now, by accusing Icicle of "treason" in addition to her other crimes, condemn the prisoner to whatever she wished. Such was the terrible right of the queen of the IceWings, a law clearly meant only for times of emergency, but oh-so-easy for a power-hungry young ruler to abuse.

"Hey, Winter." Hailstorm approached Winter cautiously, his spiked tail lashing with suppressed rage and revulsion of his own. "Winter. Winter, are you okay?"

 _Of course not!_ Winter wanted to snarl. He wanted to freeze every sneering face in the palace. He wanted to bring all the beautiful walls and statues and drapings crashing down, expose this place for what it was: the rotten heart of a corrupt kingdom that was melting from the inside out.

"I'm fine," he growled to Hailstorm. He sunk his claws into the fresh snow, counted his breaths, and calmed himself. He had never known a sudden, frigid rage like that before, and it frightened him. Then again, he had never watched someone get sentenced to one of the worst deaths imaginable before, either.

Hailstorm extended a large white wing and gently guided his brother through the courtyard. His help was guarded and awkward, but he seemed to be doing his best. After living between walls of ice all their life, it was still hard to act like actual brothers. And right now, what Winter needed more than anything was a big brother.

"Snowfall wants to make an example of her," Hailstorm muttered. He kept his voice low, his dark blue eyes scanning the empty halls for other IceWings. They had both just seen what happened to traitors. "She knows the whole tribe is upset with her reign. She just wants her power back."

"Power." Winter spat the word out like RainWing venom. "Is everything in this tribe just about power?"

Sorrow and pain darkened Hailstorm's expression. "It was the same in the Sky Kingdom. Worse, even. When I was..." He shook his head, rattling his icy frill of spikes. "Same story, all over Pyrrhia."

Winter glared down at his own shaking talons, his throat filling with angry ice. "So we're just supposed to sit here, furl our wings, and _watch_ while..."

_The Breaking could last for days on end. Weeks even, according to some scrolls. Each limb would be frozen solid, just like in the Diamond Trial. Then, one by one, while the victim was fully conscious..._

"Keep your voice down," Hailstorm hissed, eyeing a passing noble pointedly.

Another flash of white, fluttering down to an elaborate parapet, made them both pause. Winter's heart jolted sharply when he recognized those freckled scales. It was Lynx, returning to her guard post. She caught Winter's gaze, her own face shattered by shock. _I'm so sorry_ , said her broken expression. Winter turned away, ashamed of her pity, of bringing it upon her. He had known this would happen. A small, dark part of him had always known.

 _All this time, all this stalling_ , he thought, _and somehow I let myself hope that she would make it out alive. That maybe, just maybe, we would all make it out alive, and one day, we would figure this mess out._

What a joke. What a cruel, cruel joke.

"It isn't fair," he muttered. _Understatement of the century there, Winter._ "None of this."

"Oh, I know," Hailstorm said gloomily. They both knew, from painfully personal experience, just how cold and unforgiving the Ice Kingdom could be. "But that's how it's always been, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Winter sighed, defeated. The rage began to slip from his scales, replaced by that bleak, bitter resentment that had poisoned him for years on end. "I guess so."

* * *

That evening, as Winter trudged back to his tower after a day of hopeless and lonely flying, his mind swam and his heart raced. It was in one of his worst moods yet that he stumbled up the stairs, flung open his door, and stalked into the waiting darkness.

Then something slipped under his talons. A tiny scrap - some piece of old pelt, long since torn to rags, waiting there as if it had been slid under his door. Peering down at it in the darkness, he noticed a faint scrawl across the pale surface. Ink. Some kind of note, clearly secret, like a whisper put into writing. He quickly closed the door, made sure it was locked, and pulled his globe of light closer to investigate.

Hailstorm's writing. Neat as ever. He would know it anywhere.

_Tomorrow night. Tree of Light._

He turned the scrap over in his trembling talons. The words there were three bolts of lightning to his heart.

_There's a plan._


	2. A Lot of Luck/Stupidity

Whispers followed Winter around the palace all morning. If being "the exiled prince" was bad, becoming "the exiled prince with an evil sister who is about to get smashed to bits" was somehow even worse. Around every corner was another pair of glancing or glaring eyes, another flurry of hushed gossip, another round of "Isn't that...?" and "Did he...?"

His empty stomach was only making it worse, so after a suitable period of sulking, he managed to shake the frost and shame from his wings and take to the skies for a hunt. It was a relief to get away from that prison of ice and lies for a while, though the sight of the distant Moon Tree shining in the morning light did produce a painful pang in his heart.

Luckily, a flash of fur and a shrill cry soon caught his attention, followed by a strange sound. Scavengers! Three of them, right at the top of a hill, and staring right at him. The universe had, apparently, stopped biting him in the tail long enough to drop him one favor.

 _How fascinating!_ thought Winter. He had heard stories of scavengers playing tiny instruments before, but had brushed those off as tall tales. Here was the proof, right in his shadow, that they could at least make drums. These ones didn't seem to be making music, though. Instead, they banged the little things as loudly as possible and raised their small, shrill voices as if shouting for attention. He had never seen any scavengers, even in other kingdoms, behaving in this manner, and was delighted to discover something new.

Winter flew down closer, craning his neck to get a better look. To his surprise, the three scavengers did not run away, shrieking in terror, as they often did. Instead, they hit their little drums even harder and flailed their tiny limbs with even more energy than before.

Winter let out a laugh. These creatures never ceased to amaze him. What in the name of the great glaciers were they up to now? Were they trying to talk to him? Did they think they could frighten a dragon? He flew another circle around them, appreciating their courage.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others. A whole flock of them. Winter might have even been tempted to call it a village, because of how organized they seemed. They were all running for cover, gathering their young (could he call them scavenger-ets?) and fleeing into little piles of snow that seemed suspiciously similar to IceWing igloos. In the blink of an eye, they had all vanished into the safety of the snow, all while the brave three on the hill kept shouting and drumming.

Suddenly, it all made sense. They had been a distraction. And Winter, the high and mighty dragon, had been duped.

 _I knew it! They really are more intelligent than we make them out to be_ , Winter thought triumphantly, watching the successful trio of distractors scramble off after their friends. Of course, he made no move after them. Even if he hadn't long since sworn to himself never to eat their kind, they would have deserved to escape after such a clever trick.

Unfortunately, once that happy rush faded, he was left facing his stark reality again. All the dancing scavengers in the world couldn't lighten his mood once he remembered what was going to happen to Icicle, and what would happen to Hailstorm and himself if this ridiculous plan - whatever it was - got caught. The fact that he hadn't actually eaten only made things worse. Hunger did wonders for the dread of his impending doom.

Then there she was, the only dragon in the world who could possibly drag him out of that pit. Lynx. Perched quiet and still as an ice statue on the tall castle wall. She spotted him first, of course. Her job was to guard the place, after all. When Winter met her kind eyes, he couldn't help feeling a pleasant flutter inside of him. He flew down to her parapet, drawn to her like a magnet, though a blizzard of discontent and dread raged inside of him.

She sent the other two guards at her posting off with a quick word and a flick of her spiked tail. Winter was surprised to see how quickly they hurried off. Had his friend been promoted in the last few days?

"Lynx," he said, trying for a smile.

 _Be careful_ , he told himself, remembering Hailstorm's warning. Lynx was a loyal IceWing, after all. She still had a place in this tribe, and who knew how far she would go to secure it?

"Oh, Winter." Her pitiful stare and sad, small voice made him feel like his wings were lead. "I... I thought... We all thought... I'm sorry, I thought when I stood up for her..." She trailed off. "I thought it would make a difference."

"Yeah, well..." _Nothing makes a difference in this moons-forsaken kingdom._ Winter bit back the bitter reply. "Thanks for trying," he said lamely.

She nodded. Something silver flashed in the morning sun, and Winter noticed a new silver circlet wrapped around her foreleg. It was an exquisite piece, clearly a sign of high rank. Winter thought back to the last time he had seen it... on Hellebore, the proud, outspoken head guard.

"Head of the guards?" he asked, pointing it out. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. Hellebore resigned this morning." Lynx winced. "She, uh, she said she couldn't bear to serve the queen after that verdict." She nervously fiddled with the bracelet, as if it didn't belong on her scales, though it was probably enchanted to fit its wearer perfectly. "I would have done the same, you know, but the queen was so angry. And I figured, well, that it would let me help, somehow. Everything is getting stricter now, I wanted to calm things down."

The question burst out of Winter before he could stop it. It was the ice that had frozen him off from Lynx all morning, the secret fear that was eating away at their friendship as they spoke.

"Are spying on me?" he asked plainly.

Lynx stepped back, shocked. "What? Winter!"

"Did _she_ tell you to spy on me?" Winter sighed. "Look, I understand, I'm not exactly a model IceWing, and Snowfall just gave me _another_ reason to hate her guts." He cast a withering glance over the beautiful bustle below them. "I would just like to go to the waste hole without having half the palace watch."

"She did," murmured Lynx, "but I would never..." She flung out a wing to stop him from flying off. "Winter, please, you know I would never hurt you or your family. Crazy as they are." They both tried for an awkward smile. "And, honestly, I think most of this tribe is on your side. I guess we have a funny way of showing it."

Winter nodded. For some reason, he trusted her. Deep down, he had always trusted her.

"I guess I'll see you around, then," said Winter.

"Yeah." Lynx's talons twitched, her dark blue eyes still conflicted. "And I'll, uh, try not arrest you."

Winter smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

That night, slinking through the dark recesses of the palace, Winter felt like an outlaw. Which, he supposed, if he wasn't one already, he would become as soon as he joined this unhatched plan.

His heart raced. Earning the distrust of his former tribe and the personal loathing of his former queen was one thing. Getting imprisoned and tortured to death was another. For all of his anguished sighs and bitter angst, Winter knew one thing. He did not want Snowfall in charge of _his_ trial.

 _All this work to get myself banished, and I still get dragged into IceWing drama_ , he thought, holding back the urge to growl. _And why her? Out of all the dragons in Pyrrhia, I have to risk my neck for Icicle!_

Like Hailstorm had said, this tribe and this family had frozen themselves to his heart, and if they were to shatter, so would he. Little as he loved Icicle, and as much as he knew she deserved _some_ sort of punishment for her crimes, he could not stand by while Snowfall used her as a pawn in the sick power games of politics.

So, steeling his nerves and sneaking past another posting of guards, Winter forged ahead.

Hailstorm was waiting in the soft glow of the Moon Tree, awkwardly pretending to be picking out an orb. There were several other IceWings there, all either servants or guards, who were also picking up lights to take with them while they worked. While the glimmering royals all slept in peace, the real backbone of the palace kept on polishing and patrolling, unappreciated and unseen.

"Ah, there you are," Hailstorm said casually. If he was trying to blend in with the rest of the lower circlers, his perfect posture, proud stare, and posh accent betrayed him. Luckily, all the dragons around them seemed far too busy with their own drudgery to care about the suspiciously fancy pair.

Hailstorm finally grabbed a moon globe, heaved a comically exaggerated sigh of relief (Hailstorm had never been a great actor; Narwhal called his first and only performance in the annual opera "a natural disaster"), and hurried Winter off down a dark corridor and into the servants' lightless paths through the palace.

"The guards are watching us," Winter told his brother in a whisper, "Nobles, too. Snowfall knows we're desperate."

"Doesn't take a genius to see that," Hailstorm replied bitterly. "Though she's no genius, that's for sure. Did you see that last decree she passed about the Gift of Sustenance?"

"No." Sensing that Hailstorm was just distracting himself from their perilous plotting, Winter shook his head and shot his brother and irritated look. Which was, to be fair, pretty much just a normal look from Winter.

"A snowball to the face for all the commoners rioting there," Hailstorm grumbled. "Not that I approve of that rabble." Then, pulling Winter along with him down a dark, unguarded corridor and draping his wing over the moon globe, he said softly, "I assume you and I are in the same sky regarding... her."

Winter watched their shadows, moving like ghosts in the weak light. "You know no dragon has ever broken out of that dungeon before, right? Not one, in the whole history of this tribe."

"Well." Hailstorm paused, then replied, with something like hope, "Well, then, we can be the first. We'll need a lot of luck and a lot of stupidity. And we both have certainly proved ourselves to be stupid."

"We'll need a distraction too," Winter whispered, thinking back to the scavengers he had seen that morning. "Something loud. Something _big_. If all the palace guards are busy, then they can't chase after us."

"Yes." Hailstorm nodded, his blue eyes shifting with ideas. "We'll need more dragons on our side for that. Maybe Mother can convince -"

"You mean Mother is in on it?" Winter groaned.

"Of course," said Hailstorm.

Winter sighed. If there was one thing that could make this awful plan even worse, it was working with Tundra. No doubt she would find a way to make Winter somehow still feel inferior to the imprisoned, traitorous sister he was freeing. She had a true gift for ruining his life like that.

Tall, close walls loomed claustrophobically to either side, and darkness stretched before and behind them. No glorious statues, beautiful drapery, or elegant carved ice here, just cold, terrifying efficiency. Winter realized that, for all the dragons in the lower circles who did not enjoy the life of the nobility, daily life in the palace was pretty much a prison. _No wonder they're on our side._

"Now, I'm sure we can figure something out for the distraction," Hailstorm went on, "You always were always great at outraging this kingdom."

Winter snorted. "Thanks."

"Truly, it was a compliment." Hailstorm smiled weakly. "But we still need a way to..." He stopped, glanced around, then continued, even quieter, "to break her out. There's no way to break those enchanted bars. We'll need someone on the inside. We need that key."

The same, unspoken name crackled between them.

_Lynx._

Winter swallowed what felt like brick of ice in his throat and said, "I'll see what I can do."

Hailstorm nodded. "I suppose it wouldn't be a good idea to visit Icicle anytime soon. Might raise suspicions. We'll just have to hope she complies." His teeth showed in a bitter grin. "That'll be a miracle."

"You know she would never do the same for us," Winter reminded him coldly.

"Oh, I know." Hailstorm nodded. "I know."

On that grim note, they parted ways. Hailstorm passed the moon globe to Winter before he left, and Winter clutched the faintly flickering light to his chest as he watched his brother disappear into the darkness.

* * *

As Winter approached his tower, his glowing orb still held under one wing, his scales itched with a strange sense of foreboding. Then he saw it. The flash of scales. The white glint of a wing in the moonlight. The shadowy figure darting out across the courtyard.

He pressed himself behind a corner, hiding the Moon Globe with his wings and silently cursing his poor night vision as he tried to get a glimpse of the dragon's face. She had a bucket of something clutched in her talons. Were those cleaning rags? And the gray glint of her eyes in the moonlight was oddly familiar.

Boreal. Winter started to relax, recognizing the kind servant dragon who had introduced herself to him. Of course she was there. She was probably just polishing his window, or sweeping up the last of that shattered bird. Such servants were everywhere in the palace, practically invisible.

Then, remembering something else, he felt his stomach drop.

He rushed into his room, scrambling up he stairs and throwing open the unlocked door. There it was, waiting on the newly-cleaned desk. Plain as day. Practically an invitation to investigate him for treason, sitting right there for any curious ice-polishing servant to see: Hailstorm's note.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could I have been so stupid?_ Cursing himself to the three moons and back, Winter did what he should have done ages ago and shredded the scrap in his frustrated claws. "Great job, Winter," he muttered. "You've already ruined everything."


	3. Sparkly & Pathetic

To Winter's surprise, guards did not show up the next morning to drag him to the dungeons.

 _That dragon probably can't even read_ , he told himself hopefully, _and even if she can, there wasn't anything actually treasonous in that note, right? And if all else fails, I can just flee the kingdom and change my name and... and become a teacher at Jade Mountain Academy or something._ He shuddered and shook his head. Some fates were worse than death.

Just when he had finally convinced himself to stop fretting, someone knocked on his door and scared him out of scales. Expecting Lynx or Hailstorm, he opened it.

It was Boreal.

"Good morning, sir," she said. "I, uh, I've got another letter here."

Winter managed to replace his expression of sheer terror with one of intense annoyance. It was a trick he had mastered a long time ago. "From Sanctuary, I presume?" His heart thrilled a little as she nodded. Moon would have gotten his last letter by now.

Their eyes met for a moment as he took the scroll from her, and Winter saw something like sympathy there. No. More than that. It was friendship, or at least the offer of it. And now, when he needed allies more than ever, it was an offer he could not afford to pass up.

"Boreal, right?" asked Winter.

She nodded.

He fiddled with the scroll, his scales crawling as if remembering an old allergy to treason. "A few days back, you said that there were others... other IceWings who wanted change."

"Well." Boreal's big gray eyes blinked slowly, owl-like and quietly calculating. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call us a movement yet, but there are certainly..." She gulped and gestured toward his door, the fear on her face mirroring what Winter felt beneath his mask of calm. "If you'd, uh, let me explain somewhere more secure..."

The thinnest layer of trust solidified between them, fragile but promising, and Winter, despite his terrible track record with such breakable things, opened his door for her and let her in.

* * *

"So I guess you've already figured it out," he said, trying to sound cool and casual, like a real seasoned criminal about to pull off a perfect heist. Though he _was_ a seasoned criminal by IceWing standards, he ended up sounding about as cool and casual as a beached whale. "You must understand, I hate Icicle as much as the next sane dragon, but I couldn't let the queen do... _that_ to her. It isn't right."

Boreal nodded energetically. "That's what everyone else thinks! You should have seen the servants quarters. I thought there would be a riot over it."

"Really?" Winter had noticed the tribe's collective outrage, and even taken some bitter comfort in it, but _riots_? That sort of thing only happened in the poorest provinces, where there were no circles or royalty to keep order.

"The lower circles were in an uproar when they heard," Boreal went on. "They think the queen will use the Breaking on all the other prisoners, even the ones who just asked for reform. She's already had them imprisoned, and if she accuses them of treason, who knows what punishments she'll dole out?"

Winter froze. He hadn't considered that, but it did make sense. Snowfall was desperate to regain her control over the kingdom, and everyone knew how ruthless she could be.

How long had this worry and anger been building up right under the royal IceWings' snouts? The First Circle was walking on a frozen lake, either unaware or simply uncaring of the deep, dark waters that waited beneath the cracking ice. Could this be the final straw that sent everyone into the icy waves of reality?

The thought made Winter want to laugh. Icicle, as the poster dragonet of a revolt! A martyr for the very "dirty commoners" that she hated so much! Maybe that was a suitable punishment for her crimes. She certainly would have called it torture.

"How many are on your side?" He asked. "And who _are_ these IceWings?"

Boreal shifted uncomfortably, studying her talons. Winter realized that he wasn't the only one here afraid of being betrayed. "We're all over the kingdom, even in the palace. Most of the ones here have to keep their views secret, but out in the provinces, outside of the circles..." She fluttered her wings. "It's a free-for-all out there. The queen and council never hear about it, or don't _let on_ that they hear about it, but there are rebels everywhere. Rumor has it a few villages even overthrew their noble leaders."

"And they want to help _us_?" Winter pressed. "Even though they know what Icicle did?" He shook his head incredulously. "That's either uncharacteristically kind or characteristically stupid for this tribe."

"It's not about whether she deserves it or not," Boreal said darkly. "It's about the fact that the queen could even _do_ that. No dragon should have the right to... to break someone at whim. Or to send troops of dragonets off to war. Or to let a whole kingdom starve."

She stopped, glancing up as if afraid that she had gone to far, but Winter nodded. He hated the ways of the Ice Kingdom just as much, having had his friends, family, and his very life threatened by them so many times.

"You know what that whole thing with Darkstalker showed us?" Boreal went on, her voice tight with the same freezing anger that Winter knew so well. "These rulers - queens like Snowfall, they're no better than him! The monster! They can control us all with a flap of their wings. No dragon should have that power. It isn't right."

"But that's how it's always been," Winter replied with a shake of his head. "This isn't the Mud Kingdom or the Rainforest. We've been frozen like this from the beginning of time."

"No." Boreal's gray eyes sparkled with something new. "No, that's what the First Circle tricked us into believing. I know the real story. Our _real_ history."

Winter blinked back at her in surprise. _Our real history?_

Everyone knew the history of the IceWings. It had been drilled into Winter's head since the day that he hatched. He could _still_ recite his father's lectures on the stoic IceWing heroes by heart. Queen after queen, reign after reign. Centuries of the same order. The same rules. They couldn't just be _wrong_. Surely this poor servant dragon had gone mad, or was spinning some trap for him here.

But Boreal's smile was not that of a mad dragon, nor that of a liar. It was honest and hopeful and giddy with excitement.

"The Royal Archives," she went on. "I clean them every night. And I read them. The guards don't think I can, of course; that's probably why I was assigned to work there. But the things that I've read..." Her grin widened, and Winter desperately wanted to know whatever it was she was remembering. "There was a time when the Ice Kingdom was good, when the queens were kind, when the dragons in every circle were happy. I swear it! Queen Frostbite was one of them, one of the gentlest queens. It was so different back then."

Frostbite. Winter thought of the Gift of Light, of its serene branches and enchanted lamps. Surely the dragon who made that couldn't have been evil.

But an IceWing queen being _gentle_ and _kind_? Even for Frostbite, it seemed far-fetched.

Boreal clearly saw Winter's disbelief. "I know," she said, brightening with an idea, "you can see for yourself! I'll leave a window open tomorrow. The third floor. Frostbite's section. Any shelf. Hmmm... Actually, go to the tenth shelf, and find the section on the Conference of Circles."

Third floor. Tenth shelf. Conference of Circles. Whatever the moons that was.

"Please," begged Boreal, "you have to believe me. It's all there. The way she reached out to her tribe. How queens _used_ to protect us." Her wings trembled. "Will you do it?"

Winter was already putting his life on the line for a sister who hated him. He might as well throw trespassing into the mix of crimes. _In for a penguin, in for a porpoise_ , Hailstorm would say.

"I'll try," he promised, smiling bleakly.

Then, after bidding Boreal good-bye and letting her leave, he turned his attention to the letter she had given him. Unrolling the paper a little, he recognized Ripide's writing. His heart sank a little despite himself. But as he read on, he began to smile.

* * *

_Hey Winter,_

_Things are looking up here in Sanctuary! The new School of Scribes is doing great. I still think all the classes are disturbingly boring, but Starflight and Sunny wrote to say they were very pleased with what they had heard. Hopefully this means that my proposal for an epic water-fighting school will gain traction. I haven't given up yet! Your scavengers are fine, though we had to break up a fight yesterday. Those little guys can get pretty vicious sometimes._

_Moon and Turtle are here now, spreading the word about Jade Mountain Academy to the dragons who have sought asylum in Sanctuary. Many of the exiled ones have nowhere else to send their dragonets for education (aside from boring Scribe School), so they were thrilled to learn about Jade Mountain. Fatespeaker is also on her way. Said she wanted to do some reporting. She's starting some sort of "news-scroll" for the Academy. It seemed a little silly to me, but I guess I'm the one who tried to write an Aquatic opera, so who am I to judge?_

_I heard about Icicle's trial. I hope you're still holding up there in the Ice Kingdom. It's okay to ask for help, you know. I gets better, Winter. Trust me, I've swam through the same waters, in a way. After my father betrayed the Sea Kingdom, I had those fish-faces glaring at me for years. I bet those snobs at the Ice Palace are even worse. Let me know if you ever need me to blast some seawater in their faces._

_\- Riptide_

_P.S. Kinkajou said to "send you a hug" with this letter, so... yeah._

* * *

Winter snuck out that night, feeling more ridiculously rebellious than ever. After sleeping through years of history lessons, he was now risking his life to get one. Webs would be proud.

The Royal Archives were one of the Ice Kingdom's proudest relics: a magical, ever-growing testament to how perfect their tribe was. Located in one of the jaggedly beautiful towers that jutted up from the inner palace, the Archives were said to extend down into the icy earth for over a mile, magically growing over time thanks to the spells of past animus queens. Legend had it that the records contained in its shelves of ice tablets dated back to very formation of the Ice Kingdom itself.

Winter could neither confirm or deny these boasts, because access to the Archives was strictly limited. The queen and her exclusive High Council (and, apparently, the illiterate servants who cleaned the place) were the only ones allowed to even enter the tower. Even back in his days of blissful arrogance and ignorance, when he had been a "respectable IceWing", he had never gotten close to sneaking a peek inside. If he weren't so frightened of the painful punishment for being caught, he would have been pretty excited to finally get in.

True to her word, Boreal left a window on the third floor open that night. And true to his word, Winter found himself creeping around the inner palace, cursing himself and his tribe and everything else he could think of as he tried to figure out how to get up that tower.

He couldn't fly, after all. The moons were bright tonight, and his scales were terribly shiny. A guard would certainly see him. _Three moons_ , he thought mournfully, _why am I so sparkly?_ He would have to wait for the guards to switch their posts, which happened every hour or so, and try to slither up there while they were distracted.

As he waited, he thought about Riptide's letter, crafting a reply in his head. Though part of him had been disappointed to see that it was not a reply from Moon, it was still reassuring to know that at least one other dragon in the universe almost understood him. He decided to write back, to tell his new friend about some of the things that were weighing down his wings.

The "noble IceWing" he had tried so hard to be, and who still lingered like a rude ghost in his head, laughed at the thought of relating to a SeaWing, of even considering confiding in him. _How pathetic are you?_ screeched his own voice in his head. _Your winglet of false friends abandoned you, so now you're gonna cry to a fishy traitor and team up with some random servant? Pathetic. Sparkly and pathetic._

But Winter hated that ghost now, and saw how miserable he would be if he listened to its frighteningly familiar voice. Reaching out to Hailstorm and Lynx, and finding the family and friendship that he needed, was all that had kept him afloat these past few days. It was time for him to learn how to stop freezing his own heart.

A soft whistle, a signal from guard to guard, caught his attention. Winter was reminded, with a sad pang, of all times he and Lynx had made the same noise to each other back when they had been put on guard duty.

Then he remembered that he had a treasonous job to do, and rushed toward the tower while the guards were all in flight. Thank the moons he hadn't been too distracted to hear that call! _That's what you get for being all angsty in the middle of a break-in_ , he scolded himself silently.

"In for a penguin..." he grumbled, unable to even finish the thought. Hastily latching a serrated talon onto the roughly-hewn ice of the tower, he exhaled a puff of frost, cursed himself once again, and started to climb.

* * *

Winter managed to scramble up the tower and through the window fairly quickly. He was grateful, for once, that he had been eating less during his stay. Had he been snacking on his favorite Sanctuary treats of fresh eagle and elk fritter, he probably wouldn't have been able to squeeze through that little window.

The Archives were even more imposing from the inside than the outside. As Winter peered into the darkness, waiting for his vision to adjust, he could make out shelf after shelf of perfectly ordered ice tablets. Each tablet, barely thinner than a scroll, was carefully slotted into a towering shelf of carved ice. Much more expensive, and delicate, than parchment or hide, the tablets formed an impressive tribute to the Ice Kingdom. Even while writing records that nobody except the queen could read, IceWings just _had_ to show off.

Winter's tail lashed anxiously and hit something to his right, causing a great clatter that made Winter want to blast himself with ice. Biting back a loud curse, he groped around (his night vision was apparently not up to snuff tonight) and felt his talons clasp around a strange, smooth object. A tiny orb. A shiver passed through him, like what a winter chill must feel like for other tribes. _Animus-touched._

Ever since he had been enchanted by animus magic himself, Winter had been wary of, and strangely sensitive to, such traces of magic. This particular piece didn't seem very sinister, but having his free will stripped away and being turned into a broken shell of himself had given him a healthy fear of any unknown animus inventions. He went to return it to its original position, and was surprised to find two more small spheres waiting in the corner.

The design of their holder, which was carved to resemble some sort of bush, caught his attention. He could not make out many details in the darkness, but the mere concept made him think of Frostbite's handiwork. Any reminders of messy, leafy plants were usually absent from the cold cleanliness of IceWing art. In a world of clean lines and perfect geometry, Frostbite alone had dared to stand out. Winter rather liked the rebelliousness of this ancient queen's style.

Something stopped him before he could put the sphere back in its sculpted holder. A premonition. A whisper. Instinctually, he took it in both talons and gave it a little squeeze. For a second, nothing happened, and Winter felt very stupid.

Then it began to glow.

Winter watched in awe as a tiny light flickered to life within the sphere. Tiny crystals gleamed at its impossibly smooth surface, and ethereal streams of blue danced around its glowing core. _A reading light_ , thought Winter. Then, more colloquially, _Baby Moon Globe!_

For a moment, he just stood there, transfixed by its beautiful light. Then, realizing that that beautiful light could be spotted by a guard and get him killed, he flung his wings around it and hurried back to his search.

Snow was falling outside now, piling up under the window, but his gut told him not to close it. Though a guard could notice it at any moment, it was also his only escape. He had to work fast.

Clutching Baby Moon Globe under one wing, Winter headed into the endless rows of shelves. He found the tenth one easily, noting the numbers carved at the top of each towering shelf. Beside the numeral was a small carved symbol: a tree bordered by a broken ring. Frostbite's insignia? Winter had never seen it before, but it bore too much resemblance to the Moon Tree to be anything else. He tried to shake his curiosity out of his head. He had forbidden history to find right now.

Now that he could see them clearly, he was disheartened to see that every single row of tablets looked exactly the same. And there were just _so_ many. _Did Frostbite do anything except write all day?_ Winter wondered. How in the stars was he supposed to find a section on... what was it that Boreal had said? His nerves caused his thoughts to freeze up, and he paused to try and remember.

"Committee... no, Conference..." Winter mumbled, gripping his little light tighter. "Conference of Circles."

Baby Moon Globe began to move.

Winter leaped back, nearly hitting another shelf. He barely managed to suppress his yelp of alarm. He had known the thing was magic, obviously, but the sight of it floating up out of his claws and drifting through the air was still quite a shock. It floated down the shelf at a leisurely pace, as if held by a lazy ghost, and came to a stop somewhere in the middle. Then it began to glow even brighter, and Winter rushed to hide its betraying light.

 _Not just a reading light_ , he thought, impressed. Once he was not in danger of being caught and killed, he would probably thoroughly appreciate the handy invention. He pulled out the section of tablets that it had stopped in front of, hoping Baby Moon Globe had not misled him, and holding the first one up to his unexpected helper's glow, began to read.

* * *

_From the Records of Her Majesty the Seven-Circled Queen, by Right of Blood and Magic, Frostbite the First_

_Year 506 (the 11th of my reign, by blessing of the ice and snow)_

_Day 354 (3rd and final of the Conference, by blessing of the winter rose)_

_Today concludes the annual Conference of the Circles, as well as the Winter Solstice celebrations. What joy! It is always a pleasure to see the kingdom renewing itself at the solstice, to dance amidst my tribe and fly into this new chapter of our history. The palace shall be closed tonight, all the commoners returning to their own homes, but the spirit of their music and merriment will tide me over till next year. Even now, watching my fellow IceWings shine through the sky as I write, I am humbled to serve such a tribe._

_The Conference itself proved quite productive this time. No outlandish suggestions about territorial expansion or new armor, as was the case when the commoners elected a wild card last year. Indeed, this year quite firmly proved my case that those poor provincial IceWings deserve a representative. My dearly departed Mother (her reign blessed by ice and snow) must be shivering in the sea of spirits now that I have proved how valuable the commoners are to the Conference! I joked to my own advisors that we ought to change the royal title to "by Right of Blood and Magic and Mother Issues". They were terribly unamused._

_This year's votes provided the Council with a slew of new laws to implement, all of which I am confident will restore the balance to the kingdom. The enthusiasm at the Solstice Ceremony showed that the tribe is quite excited. First on the list of improvements..._

* * *

The tablet went on, detailing more groundbreaking history that Winter was already too stunned to process. Commoners in the palace? Elections? Representatives? An IceWing queen who actually told _jokes_? It was all too much. This couldn't be real. He couldn't believe it.

And yet here he was, in the Royal Archives, reading Frostbite's own records with his own eyes.

Here was the proof that history was a lie, that the Ice Kingdom had once been an entirely different world, and that this current trap of tradition and torture was _not_ "how it had always been". What would happen if the truth came out? How would all those angry, rebellious IceWings respond to this spark of hope? This wouldn't just break the ice of the First Circle, it would melt it down to a puddle.

Even Winter, sparkly and pathetic and infamously bad at politics, saw the power that he held in his talons. This could change everything.

And it _would_. He would make sure of that.

A new mission hummed in his heart as he scanned the tablet again, a giddy glimpse of hope that grew and grew as he began to form his plan. He would have to smuggle some of these out, and then would have to find some way to copy them. Once that was figured out...

_CREEEEEEEAK!_

A door opened. Footsteps. Soft breaths. A shadow in the darkness, stalking toward him exactly as he had feared.

He was caught.

Winter froze, still as a statue, dread frosting over every scale. He managed to grab Baby Moon Globe and, by squeezing it again, turned it off, but the damage had been done. Its triumphant glow had certainly already alerted the guard. Though the thing was a mere inanimate object, the betrayal still stung a little. _Why, Baby Moon Globe? Why?_

"Who's there?" called the shadow in a horrifyingly familiar voice.

Lynx.

Winter pressed himself against the shelf, stupidly terrified of his own friend. For some reason, the idea of facing Lynx and explaining himself scared him even more than the thought that she could now have him thrown in prison and executed. _Wow, Winter_ , he thought bitterly, _great priorities there._

"I know you're here," Lynx snapped, her voice chillingly hard. Winter couldn't bear to imagine that growl coming out of his best friend. "You are trespassing in the Queen's own quarters! Show yourself!"

A blast of cold air reminded Winter that the window was still open. He could make a run for it now, and try to fly off before she caught a good glimpse of him. But when he tried to move, he found that he couldn't.

"Lynx, it's me," he whispered. _Great place to bump into each other, right?_

An all-too-familiar head poked around his shelf, and two wide, blue, all-too-familiar eyes shined in the moonlight. Though Winter could not make out her expression, he heard her breath hitch and saw a shimmering flash as her wings flared. "Winter?" she gasped. Then, in barely a whisper, "Winter, what in the storm's names... why...?"

The shock and hurt in her voice made Winter's heart want to shatter. He pulled himself together long enough to whisper, "Lynx, please, you have to let me go." He inched closer, searching her dimly lit face as he begged, "Please help me."

Lynx stared back, baffled, and Winter realized that, on top of the absurdity of the whole scene, this was also the first time he had ever really asked her for help. It made him feel scaleless and vulnerable, but also strangely free. _It's okay to ask for help, you know._

"You have to trust me. Please." Winter clutched the tablets closer, his desperate gaze never breaking from hers, and asked raggedly, "Do you trust me?"

Without moment of hesitation, Lynx replied, "I do."

Then she nodded to him, gritted her teeth, and darted back toward the door. Winter took this as his cue to escape, and scrambled over to the window as quickly as he could without dropping the precious tablets. Just as he took of into the freezing, snowflaked sky, he heard Lynx call to the other guards, "Nothing here! Check the other towers!"

 _Thank you, Lynx_ , was Winter's first thought, followed quickly by, _How the frost am I going to explain this to her?_


	4. A History Lesson

The next morning, as the dim dawn shrouded the sun in clouds, Winter eagerly sent Boreal to find Hailstorm. Having a lower-circle dragon on their side had turned out to be a huge advantage; she was basically invisible to all the First Circle IceWings. Those snobs probably didn't even notice that servant dragons existed.

While waiting for his new ally to return with his brother, Winter went over the tablets again. Last night, he had made copies of each of the key tablets, using an old SeaWing trick that Riptide had shown him: with his last bit of drawing charcoal, he had lain a bit of thin parchment over the tablets and rubbed the parchment with charcoal until the etched words of the tablets were all faintly copied. It would be considerably easier to sneak a bunch of papers out of the kingdom than the real, priceless artifacts.

The tablets themselves, though, could never truly be copied. The thin, enchanted ice, smooth and flawless as NightWing glass, had a pleasantly ancient and mysterious vibe. Winter was entranced by the strange beauty of their designs, and frustrated by all the inexplicable details they held.

A strange symbol at the upper left corner of the "Conference of Circles" tablet was particularly vexing. On the right side, opposite to it, was Frostbite's familiar tree sigil, but Winter couldn't make heads or tails of this one. It was a stylized flower with ragged petals. Winter counted them. Then, thinking that he had miscounted, had to do it again.

 _Eight_ , he concluded. _That's odd._ Most IceWing art utilized the number seven, since that was the number of Circles, a perfect symbol for the Ice Kingdom's order and purity. He had assumed the weird flower had something to do with that. So why the extra petal? And why a flower, of all things? Maybe Frostbite had come up with it.

 _By blessing of the winter rose_ , read Frostbite's odd little interjection. Winter inspected the flower symbol again. _A winter rose?_ he wondered, his inner art critic jumping out. _I guess it looks like one, but it should have way more petals. And what in Pyrrhia does that phrase even_ mean _?_

The first such phrase, _by blessing of the ice and snow_ , made a bit of sense. While helping out with the commoners, Winter had become familiar with the superstitions of the IceWing provinces. Far away from the secular snobbery of the Circles and palace, many IceWing peasants seemed to think that the world was inhabited by weather spirits. Spirits of ice and snow. Royal IceWings looked down on these "common beliefs", mocking them as silly and strange, but these tablets seemed to suggest that the whole tribe had once believed in them.

"Blessing of the winter rose," muttered Winter. Though the words came out rather scornful, he felt an odd tingle run up his spiked back as he said them, as if his blue blood and hollow bones remembered something that his mind did not. _The winter rose..._

Then Hailstorm and Boreal both arrived, and Winter, startled, nearly dropped the tablet, which would have shattered its priceless secrets into a million little pieces. What a great way to start the day.

"This better be something special," Hailstorm growled. He seemed, impressively, to be even grumpier than his brother. "I was going to go seal-hunting today."

"Secrets first, seals later," Winter snapped.

Hailstorm smiled slightly. Winter too.

After carefully locking the door, Boreal grinned and buzzed around the tablets like a hungry hummingbird. "This is wonderful! You did it! Oh, thank you."

" _What_ did you do, Winter?" Hailstorm frowned again, his dark eyes regarding Boreal with surprise and suspicion. He clearly wanted to know why some random servant dared disrespect her betters like this. "Who is -"

Before Winter could figure out how to quickly dismantle his brother's deep cultural prejudice against all lower class dragons, there was a very convenient distraction. Someone else knocked on the door.

"Could be Tundra," said Hailstorm. "She was... thoroughly disgusted when I said you were in on the plan, but maybe she's come around."

Thankfully, when Winter opened the door, it was not his mother standing there. In fact, it was someone a thousand times more welcome, and whose presence raised a thousand more questions.

* * *

"Lynx!" Winter squirmed. "What, uh, what brings you here?"

"Breaking your sister out of prison," she replied. Always refreshingly honest. At least she was careful to close the door before saying that.

"You told her?" Winter asked Hailstorm. His brother looked just as shocked as he did.

Lynx laughed. Winter hadn't realized how much he missed that sound. "No," she said, "I just happen to have a brain. I _knew_ you two wouldn't let that horrible thing happen." She gave Winter's wing a teasing tap. "And after all that treason last night, I figured it was finally time to reach out and help."

"Last night?" Hailstorm glanced between them, clearly mistaken about what sort of "treason" Lynx was referring to. Both Winter and Lynx rushed to correct him, their wings blushing deep blue, all while Boreal looked away and politely suppressed her giggles.

Winter began, "When I snuck into the Archives - "

Lynx burst in, "I only helped - "

"Okay, okay!" Hailstorm breathed an urgent puff of frost. "Let's get on with it. Winter, what did you find?"

With the morning sun still snuffed out by clouds, the tablets didn't sparkle quite as epically as Winter had hoped. Still, they shimmered with suitable pomp as he laid them out.

"These are records from the reign of Queen Frostbite," he said, picking up the one about the Conference of Circles. "They have all kinds of crazy details about the tribe's ancient government. About how the circles used to be set up."

"That's it?" Hailstorm cried incredulously. "All this fuss over a history lesson?"

"Yes, Hailstorm," Winter replied with a glare, "a secret one that the kingdom hid for generations. This is our _real_ history."

Now everyone was interested. Winter explained the tablet's groundbreaking story, gesturing wildly at parts of the text, and Boreal cut in every now and then to share what she had learned from her own snooping around.

"So," Winter summed up, buzzing with excitement, "shockingly enough, our tribe wasn't always a bunch of mean tail-biters. There used to be annual debates over the laws, with dragons from every circle pitching in. Even the commoners, according to Frostbite. They used to come to the palace and propose their ideas to the queen, and she would actually _listen_ to them."

Hailstorm and Lynx both snorted in disbelief, but Winter went on, "Why else would all the modern queens lock our history away in that tower? They know their whiny subjects would freeze them solid if they found out they had something real to whine about."

"There's more, too," Boreal chipped in eagerly. "Before the Great Ice Wall, we traded peacefully with other tribes. Frostbite wrote about it extensively. She even thought we should share more of our culture. Imagine all the progress we could make if we opened the kingdom up again!

Hailstorm frowned. "Who's this one again?" he asked suspiciously. "Were you two always friends, or did I miss yet another big thing?"

Boreal shrank back fearfully, but Winter waved the question away with a flippant flutter of his wings. "She's on our side, obviously. And besides..." He gave his brother a bitterly amused glance. "We're far enough in this blizzard already. We need all the help we can get."

Hailstorm shrugged and gave Boreal a perfunctory nod. Knowing Hailstorm, Winter figured that was probably the best that their new ally would get.

Lynx turned a sharp but amused gaze on the servant dragon. "You've been sneaking all over those Archives, haven't you?" When Boreal cringed, Lynx only smiled and admitted, "It's okay, I'll take the blame for that. Some head guard I am, letting all our secrets slip out."

"If we leak this to the rest of the kingdom, there'll be an uproar," Winter said. He showed them the charcoal copies he had made, smiling with silly pride in his handiwork. "We can send these copies to Sanctuary. There's a Scribe School there. They can make copies and get them to the rest of the kingdom. The rest of Pyrrhia!"

Boreal grinned. "My friends and I have connections all over the Ice Kingdom. We'll spread this from the mountains to the sea!"

"And then Snowfall will have no choice but to address the complaints," Lynx finished, quickly catching onto the plan. "The kingdom has been unstable since Darkstalker's attack. This will finally push everyone to take a stand."

"A mass petition against the verdict," finished Winter. "We'll make her listen."

Hailstorm's brow furrowed a bit, and he seemed to regain some of his old IceWing hauteur. "Is that really wise? Setting the whole kingdom against the First Circle? Against all of our traditions?" He nodded toward Boreal. "We don't even know these connections of hers. This could get out of control."

"It's the right thing to do. Don't you want things to change, Prince?" Boreal replied. When she looked at Hailstorm, there was a strange hardness to her stare, a dangerous determination that Winter hadn't noticed before. Then, turning back to Winter, she resumed her usual friendly deference. "Also, it'll help us spring your sister out of prison. It's a win-win."

"Can you fly these to Sanctuary tonight, Boreal?" Winter asked. "I have a letter here for Riptide. He'll handle the rest of it."

He handed her the stack of charcoal copies, all neatly tied together with his plea to Riptide on top. The neatly folded letter read:

_Dear Riptide,_

_You said I could ask you for help, in that last letter. Well, I really, really need a favor now. Things have gotten pretty intense here. The dragon with this message is risking her life to bring you these. Listen to her, and help her get these papers out to the rest of Ice Kingdom. We need those scribes to work as fast as they can. This could save my family and my tribe. If my friendship means anything, Riptide, help us._

_Your friend,_   
_Winter_

_P.S. Tell Kinkajou thanks for the hug._

Boreal took the stack and tucked it under her wing, her gray eyes shining as she promised, "I'll fly faster than a falcon!"

Lynx carefully picked up the rest of the tablets. "And I'll sneak these back. Shelf ten, right?"

Winter's gut lurched at the thought of Lynx risking her own safety like that. It made sense, since Snowfall wasn't watching _her_ with a suspicious eye, but still, he would never forgive himself if his friend was imprisoned for trying to help him. "Are you sure -"

"I'll be fine," Lynx assured him. "I'm head guard now, remember? Those snooty royals won't suspect a thing." She waited a few minutes after Boreal left, hoping not to raise suspicions, then gave Winter one last smile and slipped out.

That left Winter alone with his brother again.

"Seducing the head of the guards, huh?" Hailstorm said mischievously. "You really are the family rebel."

Winter glared. "Oh, shut up."

"She's a good dragon," Hailstorm added with an earnest look. "And I always knew she -"

" _Please_ shut up," growled Winter.

Hailstorm complied, and both brothers sat in silence, neither wanting to return to the lonely dread of waiting. Snow fell softly outside, gentle and serene, dusting the still-dim world with white. Then, softly and slowly, sunlight flooded in, and the palace sparkled again. Winter stared out at the gleaming courtyard, marveling at the deceptive sense of peace. How soon it would all be shattered.

"That servant dragon," Hailstorm eventually muttered. "Are you sure you trust her?"

"I guess so." Winter shrugged. "We don't really have a choice now."

Hailstorm nodded defeatedly, and Winter wished he had something helpful or hopeful to say. _Three moons, I'm bad at being a brother_ , he thought. All he could come up with to comfort himself was, _At least Icicle is an even worse sister. Great._

"Do you really think that we can do this?" he asked Hailstorm plaintively. "That we'll make it out alive?"

"No," Hailstorm replied flatly. "But I think you'll prove me wrong."

It was an almost-inspiring paradox. Winter sighed and tried to embrace it.


	5. A New Distraction

As a small part of Winter had always expected, everything blew up in his face.

And, as if to make it all even worse, it was the very dragon he dreaded most who came to tell him.

His mother.

Tundra made no secret of her anger. Though she was the last dragon in the world that Winter wanted to see right now, apparently the feeling went both ways. She did not stomp, or slam the door, or even raise her voice (she would never break etiquette like that), but fixed him with a horrible glare and bared her teeth as if she wanted to tear him apart. For a second, Winter really thought that she would.

"Mother," he croaked. "Uh... good morning."

"You," she hissed, "have ruined everything. _Again_."

Winter wasn't sure she if she was talking about his life of the escape plan. He gulped and stared back at her like a dumb dragonet.

"All my work, all my plots, everything, _everything_ ," Tundra snarled as she paced. Winter recognized that habit; he had inherited it. "All for nothing!" Tundra cried, real grief finally showing from behind her usual mask of cold hauteur.

"Wait." Winter froze. "Was it Boreal? Was she caught?"

"Who?" Tundra drew back, baffled, then resumed her usual scowl. "No, you imbecile. The Queen has become suspicious. She noticed you were still lurking around after the trial, and quite reasonably assumed that you were up to more treason."

"Oh." That was a pretty reasonable assumption. _She's right_ , thought Winter. _What was I thinking, staying here? And hanging out with Hailstorm and Lynx. Of course others noticed!_

Tundra's eyes narrowed even more, her spikes flaring dangerously. "Either that, or one of your useless friends tipped her off." Then, as she turned away, a sharp, shattered edge crept into Tundra's voice. "She is moving Icicle's... punishment to the end of this week."

"No." Winter's thoughts blurred as if he'd been struck.

 _The end of this week._ That left less than three days. Three days, for their already improbable plan. Three days to get those papers out and inspire a kingdom-wide campaign. To organize a petition and get everyone to the palace and then, somehow, convince Snowfall to hear them out. It could never work that fast. There was simply not enough time.

"There has to be another way," he said, panic rising in his chest and freezing off all reason. "Another plan. I can fix it."

"No!" snapped Tundra. "I should have known you would ruin everything. You worthless, _worthless_ worm."

Winter shrunk back, feeling small and stupid and worthless again. "I'll fix this," he insisted again, but his mother only shook her head.

"Now I've lost two of my children," muttered Tundra. She straightened up, regaining her proper IceWing pose. "Just go. Let us grieve in peace now."

It still stung, that all-too-familiar contempt. Winter tried to come up with something, anything to say, tried to stammer out some kind of plan, but all that the whirling winds of his thoughts screamed was _worthless_. "I'm sorry," he finally croaked out.

But Tundra had already slammed the door and vanished into the sky.

* * *

Hailstorm arrived shortly afterward, clearly already aware of the news. "Winter," he growled, his voice tight with panic, "you have to go. The queen can't link me to this yet, but you... you're already an exile. A suspect. You can't stay here."

Of course he wanted Winter to go, to save himself. Just like before. Deep down, Winter knew that Hailstorm was right. It was a miracle that he hadn't been arrested already. His best bet was to fly away as fast as his wings would carry him.

But some stupid side of him absolutely refused to listen. Winter saved his own scales far too many times already. _You're no longer a useless little dragonet_ , told himself, pushing back that awful memory of the day Hailstorm had been captured. _You are_ not _leaving this time._

Winter shook his head. "I'm not abandoning you guys. Not again."

Exasperation shined in Hailstorm's eyes as he raised his spikes and lashed his tail. "What are you even - "

"I am _not_ leaving this dung heap of a kingdom again," Winter growled. "And I'm not letting Snowfall send everyone I care about to death."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to let you die over some stupid, stubborn heroics!" Hailstorm shot back. "I swear to the stars, Winter, all the times I've sacrificed myself for you, for this family - "

Now Winter flared his wings. "Oh, yes, how _selfish_ of me to want to help you!"

Hailstorm turned away, all the fight already gone from his listless eyes. "Three moons," he muttered, slumping down, "we both sound like Mother."

Winter nodded. They both paused, their anger fading quickly and their wings drooping defeatedly.

"Go hide in my tower at least, or Lynx's," Hailstorm finally said, "and I'll keep spreading the rumor that you've already left. We have to figure something else out now. A new distraction. Then all of us will flee together."

Winter nodded again. He brooded a bit after Hailstorm left, then managed to fight off his own misery just long enough to figure out what to do with himself. He had to go find Lynx.

* * *

Lynx had apparently come to the same conclusions as Hailstorm, and seemed even more concerned for Winter's safety. He found her at the eastern guard post, and before he could even get a _hello_ out, she was rushing him down into the palace's maze-like corridors. "Follow me," she said. "You'll be safe in my rooms, but we can't be seen together."

Her promotion to head of the guards had granted Lynx access to the inner circles of the palace, where the many of the high-ranked IceWings had their own private towers and courtyards. Her own tower was quite small (for though she was a respected noble now, she would never be equal to the royals) and lacked the obnoxious opulence of the real royalty. There were a few simple tapestries, reminders of the humble roots of Lynx's family, and a few silver medals on the walls, but other than that, Lynx lived simply.

Despite the fact that both his life and their treasonous jailbreak plot were both in grave danger, Winter couldn't help feeling a little awkward when Lynx shoved him into her private rooms. It was an old IceWing taboo, one which had made sharing quarters with Qibli back at Jade Mountain _incredibly_ awkward. Two unrelated and unmarried IceWings were _not_ supposed to share chambers. It was the height of impropriety, even for someone who was already exiled.

Luckily, Lynx was far too occupied with trying to save Winter's life to worry about such things. "Do you want to hide out in the lower floor?" she asked. She tapping another door, which presumably led to her sleeping quarters, with her tail. "That might be even safer."

"Uh, no," Winter stammered out, "I, uh, I'll just stay up here." He quickly closed the curtains, then tried to find the most polite, proper place to sit. He settled for the corner where she kept her spears, and tried not to get stabbed as he sat. "Now, about the plan -" he started.

"Hold on," Lynx said hurriedly, "there was someone else looking for you. Let me get her." She rushed out without an explanation, leaving Winter even more confused and concerned.

Boreal burst in few moments later, followed by Lynx, who now cautiously held a small blue pouch in her talons. Winter couldn't believe Boreal had made it back in less than two days. Everything about her stumbling walk and slouched pose screamed tiredness, but she beamed when she saw Winter, fighting hard to stay awake.

"Winter!" the servant dragon exclaimed. "Oh, thank the moons! For some reason, everyone is saying you flew off last night."

Remembering Hailstorm's plans, Winter nodded knowingly. Rumor really did move like lightning here. "That's good," he muttered. "Plus, if the news gives Snowfall a heart attack, then we'll have another problem out of the way."

"You said you had some sort of plan?" Lynx prompted, poking Boreal with her wing.

"Yes!" Boreal sprang up, her eyes wild with exhaustion and excitement. Had she slept at all while flying out to Sanctuary and back? Winter winced in sympathy. "I've stirred up the spirits of the servants, and gotten word out that Snowfall is going to crack down on traitors. My friends say they're willing to help now. We can get them in action!"

 _A new distraction._ Winter's heart squeezed with a surge of much-needed hope. "You're going to start something in the middle of the palace?"

"Yes, but we must act fast. I need to speak with Hailstorm," Boreal said. "He knows which nobles are upset. We can get them all to team up."

Lynx's eyes lit up with a new idea. "I'll say I'm doing an investigation! Then I can bring both of you to the guard tower. We'll perfect the plans for everything there."

"What about the actual prison break?" asked Winter. As great as this last-minute distraction stuff was, there was still a whale-sized blind spot in the plan.

"Ah." Lynx smiled. "I have something to help with that." She opened the blue pouch that she had returned with and pulled out a small silver key. "One of the perks of being head of the guards," she explained, pressing it delicately into Winter's talons. "You get some cool, secret magic stuff."

"This will open Icicle's cell?" Winter asked. Magic hummed through his scales as he grasped it, and he bit back a grimace. Clearly, it could do _far_ more than that.

Lynx nodded and gave him the pouch as well. "It's Taiga's key, one of the last animus gifts," she said. "It locks and unlocks anything under the IceWing queen's jurisdiction."

As recent events had proven, that was pretty much everything in this whole thrice-cursed kingdom.

Winter cracked a cold smile. "That does make things a _lot_ easier."

Lynx nervously shifted her wings. "We still have to deal with the guards, though. That's why I couldn't break her out myself. Snowfall ordered us to double the dungeon guards, and I don't think anyone on the current team will help us. All the rebellious ones quit when Hellebore did."

"Except for one," Winter pointed out, nudging Lynx.

She laughed weakly. "Yeah. Just one."

"Would the guards be obliged to leave if there was some... some wild situation at the palace?" asked Boreal.

Lynx paused, considering this possibility. Winter noticed how her wingtips shuffled as she thought. "I guess so. It would have to be one heck of a _situation_ , though."

Boreal seemed to take this as a good sign. She nodded and smiled, her tired gray eyes shining with a plan of her own.

"We need time to get Icicle out of the kingdom, too," Lynx added. "The chaos has to be big enough to keep the Queen from sending scouts out to find her, at least not until she can get to somewhere safe."

"I'll sneak in and free her during the distraction," Winter said. "She'll be out of sight before anyone even notices."

Lynx frowned. "Just you? Alone?"

"Snowfall thinks I'm already gone," he explained, "so nobody will be on the lookout for me." He cast Lynx a wry look. "And if Icicle decides to bite the head of off the first dragon who opens her cell, I'd rather not have it be you."

Lynx sighed and looked like she wanted to argue, but even she couldn't figure out anything better than this nebulous, half-baked plan. "Alright," she said, "once I can justify it, I'll send out someone to recall the dungeon guards back to the palace. You'll have to hide out around the entrance until then." Her wings started shuffling again as she thought on. "If you stay here till tomorrow morning, I can stall the first patrols long enough to let you sneak out. You'll have to fly fast."

Racing her for years had certainly prepared him for that.

"I just hope you and Hailstorm cook up a big enough show for this palace," Lynx said to Boreal. Winter shared her concern. After everything that happened last year, it seemed impossible to shock the Ice Kingdom yet again.

Boreal's expression was one of enigmatic eagerness. "Believe me, we'll have all of Pyrrhia watching."

* * *

After Lynx and Boreal left to plot with Hailstorm, Winter was left alone in Lynx's rooms. He already felt weird enough seeing all her stuff for the first time, and was far too embarrassed to go snooping through it. He did take the time to study her heirloom tapestries, which seemed to show ancient IceWings dancing or flying beneath three full moons. Winter found their rich, provincial style to be beautiful and fascinating, though he knew most snobbish IceWing nobles dismissed this kind of art as "low class" and "uncivilized".

 _Her family sure has come along way_ , Winter realized. While growing up with all the privileges of the First Circle, Winter had never even considered this.

Lynx had struggled against the cruel system of the Circles, too. She was the only one who had been able to rise up through the ranks. No wonder she never spoke about her family. And now she was risking it all, everything she had worked so hard for, just to help Winter's family. She had sacrificed so much for this plan, putting her rank and even her life on the line. Winter knew there was no way he could ever repay her.

He pulled the curtains back, just a bit, and peered out the window at the guard tower, which he imagined his friends planning inside. He could see their shadows shifting through the blue stained glass of the tower's small, square window, and wondered what they were discussing. Once again, though now through no fault of theirs, he was completely locked out from the rest of the plan. Thinking back to a different time, with different friends, Winter felt a painful pang.

But it was different this time. He trusted these dragons, and he knew, comfortingly, that they all trusted him.

There was something deliciously futile and insane about the whole quest. He knew Icicle wouldn't risk a single scale to save him. In fact, she would probably relish the chance to watch him suffer the very fate she now faced. He was, after all, a stain on their family and an affront to their society. She loved the very system that wanted to literally break her to bits.

How crazy was it to keep on hoping that one day she would change, that the Ice Kingdom itself could change, and that a talonful of young rebels could really make anything better?

_Stupid, stubborn heroics._

Still, as Hailstorm himself had said, it took a lot of stupidity to pull something like this off. Maybe everything heroic was stupid. Maybe that's what made real heroes so rare.

 _Well, you stupid, sparkly serpent_ , Winter thought with a bit of bitter glee, _you're already stupid. Might as well try to be a hero too._


	6. A Pretty Awful Dragon

That night was nothing more than a passing shadow. Winter did not sleep one bit. Then the morning sun rose ruthlessly fast, and Winter found himself waiting around in a long, horrible silence.

After what seemed like an eternity, Boreal stopped by with some much-needed lunch: an old chunk of deer and some suspiciously smelly fish. Fighting back his wounded pride and basic sense of hygiene, Winter managed to swallow a few bites. It was probably the only food she could take without getting caught. _Or_ , he realized as he watched Boreal eat the rest, _this is just what the servant dragons always eat._ That thought made sicker than any rotten fish could.

"How's that distraction going?" he asked, still fighting to keep the meat down. "Did you get in touch with more rebels?"

"Everything is ready," she said giddily. "Hailstorm's connections have agreed to help mine. Nobles and servants, working together! We're gonna change the world."

Winter tried to believe her.

Before Winter knew it, the sky outside was already darkening again. Sunset. Every second brought him closer to the impossible escape.

It was Lynx who stopped by to tell him when to sneak out.

"Hurry," she urged. "I'm going to stall the guard patrols, but that will only give you a few extra minutes. Fly like the winter winds."

Winter nodded. He opened the door a crack, checking to make sure there were no lingering guards or nosy nobles outside. Lynx's wing brushed against his, and he turned to catch one last look at her.

"Please," she added with a small smile, "just don't die."

Winter sighed. "I'll try."

They shared one more laugh. Then he was off, flying like the winter winds, or at least as fast as his shaking wings could carry him.

* * *

As he flew out to the dungeons, using the clouds as cover, Winter was so busy worrying about how he was going to get Icicle _out_ that he somehow forgot about how hard it would be to get himself _in_.

The plan went smoothly at first. He landed in the rocky snow drifts not too far from the entrance, crouching down and so that his white scales blended in perfectly with the fresh snow. Then he watched and waited until, just as expected, a frantic guard flew in from the palace and disappeared into the mouth of the cave. A few moments later, the whole group of guards emerged and headed back with the messenger. Just as Lynx had planned.

 _Wow. That was easy_ , thought Winter as they all rushed by overhead. Once they were gone, he took to the sky himself, scouting out the entrance one more time. Then he realized he had been too quick to celebrate. _Wait, no, not so easy. Of course._

There was still one guard left.

"Great," Winter grumbled to himself. He really should have seen it coming. Lynx had mentioned that the guards could not be trusted; some of them probably suspected the plan. And besides, absolutely none of Winter's plans ever went right anyway.

Winter flew in a wide circle. The guard looked small and scrawny. The only weapon he had was a plain ice staff, which he was holding incorrectly. Winter took a deep breath, filling his throat with frost, and thought back to his days of battle training. It would all be over quickly, if he could just get one good blast in.

Before his fear could freeze his wings, he swooped down and unleashed his frostbreath with deadly precision. Or it _would_ have been deadly precision, if the guard hadn't spotted him at the last second and swung that staff around _just_ fast enough to break Winter's swoop. Winter fell in a flutter of wings and a frustrated snarl, somehow managing to land without breaking anything. He attacked again, but this time the guard was prepared, and and shot back an icy blast of his own.

Winter dodged, lunged toward the staff (which the poor guard was still struggling to hold), and grabbed it. Digging in with his serrated talons, he knocked his clumsy opponent off balance and lashed his spiked tail forward for another blow.

"Wait, wait, wait!" The guard dropped the weapon and stumbled back, shocked. He stared at Winter for a second, then threw up his wings in surrender. "Y-you're Prince Winter!" he cried.

 _Prince Winter._ Winter's old title sounded strange and wrong now, and he still hated that he was famous for it. _But maybe_ , he thought, _that'll finally help me now._

"Yes," said Winter. He puffed up his chest and tried to look intimidating. He failed terribly. "Well, uh, ex-Prince Winter," he clarified. "Yeah."

"Three moons," muttered the guard. "You're... you were my hero."

"Really?" Now it was Winter's turn to be shocked.

The guard regarded him with reverence. "You helped stop Darkstalker, and you stood up to the First Circle for us!" Confusion swam in his big eyes as he stepped back and furled his wings. "I always wanted to do something like that." He looked back at the dungeons, guilt filling his face. "And I really don't want... _that_ to happen to Princess Icicle either."

Winter realized that the little guard was no older than he was, most likely even younger. The poor dragon was probably just a trainee. No wonder the other guards had left him behind.

"Look," Winter said, resisting the rather unheroic urge to just finish the fight and leave the weaker dragon knocked-out in the snow. He had to at least _try_ to work this out first. "If my sister is tortured to death, everything will only get worse. Snowfall will threaten everyone. The kingdom will go mad. I can't let that happen."

The guard nodded, but when Winter tried to step past him, he flared his wings again. "I can't -"

Exasperated, Winter growled and prepared himself for a battle. That knocking-out plan seemed awfully tempting now. But this young dragon clearly didn't want to fight. There was respect and trust in the guard's frightened words. Winter decided to pay that forward.

"Listen," he said. "You know Lynx, the head of the guards? She's my friend. She's in on this. She'll protect you, I promise. Go back to the palace, join the other guards, and you'll be fine."

Some of the fear melted from the guard's face. He paused, his wings fluttering nervously, as he mulled it over. "O-okay," he stammered out. "I'll do it. I'll help you. Just..." The young dragon gulped. "Just please remember to help our kingdom." Still shaking like a leaf, he stepped aside from the entrance to let Winter pass. "My name's Puffin, by the way."

"Thanks, Puffin," said Winter. _I'll try my best,_ he wanted to add, but the guard was already taking off toward the palace.

Winter had no way of knowing whether Puffin would really keep his word, or if he would blab about the escape plot as soon as he got there. Winter had taken a huge risk, like landing on thin ice, one that could ruin everything yet again. He would have to work even faster now.

Steeling himself, and silently cursing his own incompetence, he plunged into the dark maw of the dungeons.

* * *

Winter remembered Icicle's cell. The memory of that last meeting with her was frozen into his head, so he recalled every gloomy step down those cold, cruel tunnels.

Even as he rushed past the other prisoners, his head down, his eyes focused on the darkness up ahead, he couldn't help wondering what their stories were. How many of these IceWings were innocent? He had in this little pouch a key that could free anyone. If only he knew more about them. If only he had bothered to pay more attention to the corruption in his own kingdom.

 _Focus_ , he told himself. _No time for that now. Icicle. Find Icicle._

And then, as if in answer to that thought, he found himself at her cell's door.

There was no time to waste on his own hate and sadness and hesitation. He pulled out the key and jammed it into the lock. An sickening tingle raced through his talons, suffusing his scales with magic as the key's ancient spell worked. "Three moons," he muttered, shivering. Then, his stomach made even sicker by his nerves, he called out, "Icicle?"

"Winter?" Her voice was frightened and bewildered at first. Then, in her usual disgusted tone she hissed, "What are you doing here?" Her blue eyes widened when she saw that he was alone. "How..."

"We're escaping," Winter said bluntly.

The utter shock that swept across Icicle's face was truly a sight to see. First she sat there, blinking with disbelief, then her expression turned to doubt, and she reeled back as if to strike him, and then, finally, she fixed him with a blank stare, and asked him, "Why?"

Winter rolled his eyes. "Can we just finish the escape now?" he snapped.

Icicle managed a snort of laughter, nodded, and scrambled out of her cell. She led the way as they raced back up out of the dungeons, the route to her cell no doubt even more deeply engraved on her brain than Winter's. As they stumbled through the darkness, Winter thought about her single-word question, which he honestly didn't know the answer to yet. _Why did I do this?_

Then they burst out of the dungeons, into the fresh and freezing air, and Winter stared up at the sky's first scattering of stars and, finally, found his answer.

"Why did you do this?" Icicle asked again. "Why save me? You _hate_ me."

A stab of meanness hit Winter, and he muttered, "Oh, yeah, I do." Then he sighed and reminded himself that now was _not_ the time to get some sarcastic revenge. Tempting as that was. "Yes, Icicle," he said, "I think you've done some pretty awful things, and honestly, I think you're a pretty awful dragon. But I'm _also_ an awful dragon. And I wouldn't be..." He paused, frowning, and she let him continue. "And I wouldn't be here, trying to become better, if nobody else had ever believed in me."

Icicle was quiet. "You _believe_ in me?" she asked, her voice soft and yet scornful as ever.

Winter didn't mind. He could hear the pain behind her anger. It sounded like an echo of his own voice.

"Yeah," he repeated, swallowing his own pain and anger, "I do."

Icicle said nothing.

There were a million things he could have said then. A million ways that conversation could have gone. But there was no time for that now. No time for anything but flight, for both of them. If either of them wanted to live long enough to become better dragons, they had to leave _now_.

 _Is that all my life is going be?_ Winter wondered plaintively. _Flying away from everything? From everyone?_ Then he shook himself out of his own frigid thoughts. _Not a good time to get all tragic, Winter!_

"Fly to Sanctuary. As fast as you can," he told Icicle, shoving her forward with his wing. Then he nodded toward the sky, at a familiar constellation. One they had both memorized as dragonets. "If you get lost, follow the Triplets." Icicle's scowl deepened with questions, but Winter waved them away. "We'll find somewhere for you to hide, somewhere out in the provinces. Right now you just need to go."

Another resolve had hardened in him, frozen into his heart like a great glacier of dread. Lynx, Hailstorm, and Boreal were still at the palace, probably risking their lives just to buy him this time. He wouldn't leave without them. He couldn't. If he truly was a better dragon now, he would have to go back for his friends.

"Winter..." Icicle started. Something changed in her voice.

"Icicle!" he snapped. It seemed cruelly fitting to be the one bossing _her_ around now. As dragonets, it had always been the other way around. "Just go."

"Do you remember the old stories?" Icicle went on. Her talons twitched as if she wanted to take his, but Winter's gut still clenched hatefully at that thought, and Icicle's heart clearly hadn't become mushy enough to really reach out to him. "Do you remember the one about the dragons reborn from ice? Who got to live again?"

Winter didn't really remember that legend. He nodded anyway. Anything to get her to go.

"You're lying," said Icicle, smiling slightly. Coldly. "Of course. You never studied enough."

"Sanctuary," he reminded her. "Go."

She nodded. Wordlessly. Thanklessly. Then her wings unfurled in a flash of blinding white and she took to the sky as seamlessly as ever, swift and silent in the sparkling night. She was always better at flying than Winter. She always beat him and always gloated. Would she ever really change?

Winter watched for a moment, and remembered. Then he, too, took to the sky and flew off in the opposite direction. On toward the palace, and whatever awaited him there, whatever wild distraction was already unfolding. There were dragons down there he could not bear to leave behind, dragons who had believed in him. He would not flee until he knew that they, too, were safe. It was the right thing to do and, of course, incredibly stupid.


	7. Change

The winds were still wild, and clouds soon blew over the moons, shrouding the night in deeper darkness. That made Winter's flight back to the palace even harder, and made what he saw there even more confusing and incredible.

It was a battlezone. IceWing against IceWing. Frost against frost.

The whole horrible, perfect, pristine palace was now writhing with chaos. White wings flashed in the faint light of the Moon Globes as fighting spilled out into the courtyards, scarring the snow with sharp ice. IceWings flew through the air high above the towers, blasting each other with shimmering frostbreath and chasing their own fellow tribesdragons through the crowded sky.

 _This is the distraction?!_ Thought Winter. His mind reeled. _What...? How...?_ Boreal had said her friends would help them. Hailstorm had said there were nobles on their side. But _this_... this was unbelievable.

Hoping that the darkness was making it look all worse than it really was, Winter swooped down, grabbed an abandoned Moon Globe, and began to search for his brother. He stuck to the servants' corridors, avoiding the main halls and courtyards where most of the noise was coming from. The few dragons who rushed past him, most carrying makeshift weapons and shields, either thought he was on their side or were too busy with their own problems to deal with him.

After a few nerve-wracking minutes, he finally spotted Hailstorm pressed against the wall of a long hallway. The passage already bore the marks of battle: blasts of frostbreath and chilling splashes of blue. The fighting seemed to have moved into the open air of the next courtyard, where IceWings of all ranks and brawling. Winter spotted one of the highest-ranked generals shooting ice at a First Circle princess, but before he could see what happened next, Hailstorm had seen him gestured for them both to leave.

"What in the great glaciers is going on?" Winter hissed as Hailstorm unfurled his wings and hustled them both down safer corridor.

"It's out of control," Hailstorm growled. "We only wanted a small upset. A tussle with the guards. But Boreal's pack of rebels used it as some kind of attack." He breathed a big puff of frustrated frost. "This is bigger than we thought, Winter. They've turned it into a siege."

Winter stepped back, shocked. " _What?!_ "

"Boreal led them into the royal courtyards," Hailstorm went on. "Everyone is going wild in there, destroying everything. I just left you find you. I think they're headed toward the inner palace."

"So it's a revolt?!" Winter exclaimed, still trying to process the fact that sweet, mild-mannered Boreal was leading a rebel siege.

A _revolt_ in the palace? Winter would never, not in a million years, have guessed IceWings to even be capable of that. Certainly not here, in the palace! They were orderly creatures. Frozen in place. And yet... here it was. Right in front of him. The bloody proof. _Our real history._

"Not just a revolt," Hailstorm said darkly. "A revolution."

Shouts, roars, and blasts of ice sounded from the next courtyard, and Winter was too morbidly curious not to look. Grumbling curses, Hailstorm followed.

The few guards still there had already been neutralized, backed into a corner by a few rebel IceWings. Winter recognized Hellebore, the old head guard, as one of the rebels, and felt a thrill of hope in his chest. She really was on their side! Clearly reluctant to fight against their old leader, the battered group of guards held their wings high in surrender.

Meanwhile, the rest of the courtyard was being pulverized. Dragons slashed banners with their claws, blasted statues of Snowfall with frostbreath, and slammed their spiked tails into the delicate walls of the palace itself. It was magnificent. Winter couldn't help smiling. All the years he had spent trapped in this place, all the suffering that its icy splendor had come to represent, was being dismantled before his eyes. He had never felt so relieved in his life. And, three moons, did he want to join in!

 _No time for that_ , he reminded himself. _Escape first, get poetic catharsis later._ Winter breathed out a sharp breath of frost and refocused. _Where has Boreal gone now?_

The worst of the fighting seemed to be coming from the innermost parts of the palace, where dragons from every Circle were flying in to help both sides. Had the rebels really broken into the royal chambers?

 _No_ , Winter thought, frowning. _To many guards and magical defenses. Instant death. But an insider like Boreal would_ know _that was suicide. What if..._

"They're trashing the palace," he said. The ingenuity of it dawned on him, and he grinned.

"Yeah, I saw that," Hailstorm replied with a huff. "There goes my favorite pavilion."

"No, that's their whole plan," Winter said, recalling what he had seen from up above. "The guards have all retreated to the royal chambers to protect Snowfall, so now Boreal and the rebels are attacking the rest of the palace. No one can stop them if Snowfall took all the defenses for herself."

"Cowardly," growled Hailstorm, "but smart." Then he lashed his tail and fluttered his wings impatiently. "Now come on, we have to go!"

"Not yet," Winter insisted. "We need to find Lynx."

Before Hailstorm could protest, Winter had already plunged into the chaos, racing down a corridor toward the center of the palace. Other IceWings rushed past them, finally paying the infamous brothers no heed. Apparently it took a full-on revolution for IceWings to stop being nosy and rude.

Just as Winter had suspected, there were practically no guards left in any of the inner courtyards or towers. Snowfall must have ordered them all to protect her own rooms, leaving practically every other part of the palace free for the rebels to destroy. And they did not disappoint.

All around Winter, dragons were blasting frost, shattering ice, and smearing paint. Statues toppled with satisfying, bone-shaking _cracks_. Frostbreath slammed into delicate ice formations, marking everything with shimmering scars. Blue paint dripped from the walls, spelling out slogans and menacingly marking everything with the color of IceWing blood.

Across the side of one tall tower, someone had scrawled: THERE ARE NO CIRCLES!

Another wall read, simply: CHANGE

As he passed by Frostbite's gift, the Tree of Light, Winter couldn't help stopping and staring. "Three moons," he muttered. _Not just a revolt. A revolution._

Jagged ice formations now encrusted the base of the ancient, sacred tree, rising like strange, savage works of art from the once-peaceful snow. The rebels had blasted most of the courtyard with frost, but had thankfully left most of the tree itself untouched. A crude banner had been hung on its highest branches: the rebel flag. This one's colors were the inverse of the royal banner, blue on white instead of white on blue. And when Winter saw the symbol that had been painted onto that fluttering white flag, he felt his cold blood freeze in his veins.

It was the eight-petaled flower. The winter rose.

A strange, excited hum worked its way through his scales, shaking him to the bone, filling him with fear and wonder. Boreal's words echoed in his head, _We'll have all of Pyrrhia watching._ History was happening here. The kingdom was changing. The _world_ was changing.

"This isn't going to last," Hailstorm growled to his brother, poking him with his sharp tail. " _This_ is our distraction, Winter. Let's go!"

Winter shook his head and hissed, "No, not without Lynx." Then he took a deep, cold breath, calmed himself, and asked, "Where did you last see her?"

Hailstorm sighed. Then, perhaps realizing how determined Winter really was, said, "She flew out to the main guard tower, to direct the guards from there."

The guard tower. Of course! Winter nodded and prepared to fly, but Hailstorm turned away.

"I'll meet you two there," Hailstorm declared. "There's someone I have to warn, too."

There was no time for Winter to pry about that. He nodded, wished his brother luck, and took to the dark and turbulent sky.

* * *

Winter quickly found the guard tower; he had spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at it and wondering what his friends were saying in there, after all. His heart squeezed when he noticed a faint light glowing in its blue windows. _Lynx!_ He folded his wings and dove down to the tower, unlocking the door with Taiga's key, flinging it open with a relieved call of "Lynx!"

A single Moon Globe lit the room, scattering its sparse light over the maps and tools of the palace guards. Most of the armor and weapons were gone, leaving ominous metal holders behind, and all of the benches where guards usually waited were empty, except for one. There was Lynx, curled up by the window as if waiting for him.

She jumped up, startled. Then her face broke into a big, bright grin. "Winter!" she exclaimed joyfully, and suddenly he knew everything would be all right.

"We did it, Lynx," he said, urging her toward the door with his wings. "Icicle's free. Hailstorm's on his way. We can go now!"

Lynx's grin faltered. She stepped back. A strange mix of courage and sadness flicked across her freckled face. An avalanche of dread filled Winter's heart.

"No," she said. "You two have to go, but I'll stay." She smiled bravely, but fear flashed in her eyes. "I can help you from the inside. I'll organize a resistance in the palace. We can change this kingdom together. Trust me, Winter."

He did.

Lynx went on, "Please..."

"I know," Winter cut in. "It's okay. I understand."

Some part of him had already known that Lynx would never leave her tribe, not while it still needed her. She would do whatever it took to fix the Ice Kingdom, even if it meant risking her life by staying for the revolution. Winter's heart shattered at the thought of leaving her, cracking him to pieces like one of those ruined statues. But he would swallow his sorrow, and respect her choice, because he knew she would have done the same for him. Lynx was loyal and brave to the core. She knew what she was doing.

That was why he loved her.

"I already had a friend hide the key to this tower," she told him. "Lock the door again with Taiga's key, then take that with you." She pointed to the key, which was still in Winter's talons, then pressed her own talons against his for emphasis. "The guards will get me out later," she assured him. "I'll tell them that the rebels trapped me here. That'll get Snowfall off my tail. I need an excuse for not to joining the guards earlier. She won't trust me unless I have an alibi."

Winter nodded. "Okay."

Lynx squeezed Winter's talons in hers, her eyes shining with hope and hurt and all the things that they didn't have enough time to say. Then she let him go, and he did his best to hide all the horrible fears that were already tearing through his thoughts.

"Lynx..." He tried to smile. He couldn't. "Just don't die."

She grinned back sadly. "I'll try."

 _I'll come back_ , he wanted to say. _I'll come back for you. We'll do this together._ But how could he promise that? Who knew if he would ever return? If he would even be able to get out of here in the first place?

Unable to hurt her with a false promise, Winter said nothing more. He glanced at her one last time, just long enough to see the grin fall from her face, then locked the door and froze off his feelings and forced himself to fly away.

* * *

Hailstorm was already hiding at the base of the tower, and flew up to join his brother when Winter rushed out. "No Lynx?" he asked as they flew.

"She's staying," said Winter, his voice dull with grief.

Hailstorm nodded. Either he understood, or he just wanted to get out of there. Regardless, Winter was glad that he didn't have to explain.

"Who were you looking for?" Winter asked as they headed around the chaos of the inner palace, flying low to avoid the guards and rebels who were still fighting overhead.

"Mother," said Hailstorm. "I found her. She said she'd flee, but not to Sanctuary. She's going to hide out by herself, I guess."

"Oh." Winter's first reaction was relief. Relief that he wouldn't have to face her, that he wouldn't have to deal with both Icicle and Tundra at the same time. Then he felt horribly guilty for feeling relieved. Alas, now wasn't exactly the best time for wallowing in his own guilt, so he had to put that aside.

There was one more thing he had to attend to before they finally flew out of this wretched place. It was clutched tight in his talons, which still tingled from Lynx's touch.

Taiga's key would be no use to him outside of the palace, which he did not intend to return to anytime soon. Luckily, he soon spotted someone who could definitely use it. Someone who would free those innocent prisoners, and open up the doors to their tribe's secret history.

Boreal. There she was, leading the charge of her ragtag rebel troop. As Winter had suspected, they weren't really trying to break into the royal chambers, just destroying the courtyards that surrounded those rooms. Many of the statues and towers in this area were protected by animus magic, leaving them hauntingly untouched as the rest of their surroundings were torn apart. Boreal perched atop one such statue, hastily tying a banner to its wings as she shouted encouragement to the busy vandals below.

"Boreal!" Winter cried, swooping down low. "Take this!" Before he could change his mind, he tossed her the key.

She nimbly caught it in her talons, and, realizing what it was, what _power_ it gave her, looked up at him in shock. "Winter -"

"You know what to do with it, who to free," he said, circling back around her. "Just go, and... and do the right thing."

Something strange and frightening seemed to flit across the servant dragon's face: a look of quiet triumph. Then she smiled her sweet smile again, looking shy and friendly as ever, as if he had imagined it all. But he had not. This time he was sure. "I will," she said, and then she was gone, thrown back into the chaos of her own making.

Winter realized he may have made a terrible mistake.

But there was no time to dwell on that, or to figure out any of the other thousands of questions that swirled in his heart. Winter and Hailstorm had already long since overstayed their welcome. It was time to go.

As Winter flew up to Hailstorm, both brothers nodded in silent agreement. Then like two dragons possessed, they hurtled past the palace's broken gates, up over the shadows of chaos outside, over the broken sounds of revolution, and out into the open darkness of sky. Winter took the lead, for he knew the way back to Sanctuary by heart, and despite the harsh bite of the wind, his wings carried him up as if he were weightless.

His heart, too, was beginning to feel lighter, for even with all the fear and uncertainty that lingered within him, he knew that he was headed toward somewhere friendly and free. _Somewhere better_ , he decided. _Where things are going to change._

* * *

Winter flew and flew and flew. Faster and farther than he had ever flown before. He flew until his wings screamed with pain, until every scale on his body ached, until his limbs wanted to freeze off to escape the ruthless wind. And then, he flew on some more.

It helped to have Hailstorm beside him. Winter had discovered how much it helped to have someone he could talk to, someone he could trust. He was done trying to weather all his storms alone. He had friends and family to fly with now.

So as they flew, they talked. About hunting strategies, about the weather, about Winter's scavenger projects. Anything to get their mind off the fact that they could get captured and killed at any moment.

"You should see the new enclosure I designed," Winter said, "It'll be like a little scavenger town. I've already got a few going in Sanctuary."

Hailstorm was quiet for a while, and they both stared down at the bleak, white landscape below them. As the night deepened, shadows crept across the seemingly endless snow and stars twinkled above them. The light of the moons made both IceWing brothers gleam stark white, like ghosts of themselves.

"Do you think we'll be safe there?" Hailstorm finally asked. "In Sanctuary."

"It's neutral ground," replied Winter.

Hailstorm snorted. "Why would Snowfall respect that?"

"Good point." Winter sighed. "But my friends are there. They'll help us. We'll figure something out."

"Yeah." Hailstorm nodded, then fell silent again, and Winter, who didn't believe his own words, could hardly blame his brother for not believing them either.

Winter thought back to when he had released Icicle, finally allowing himself to process it all. How strange to think that had happened mere hours before. It felt like a whole lifetime had passed since he watched his sister disappear amidst the distant stars. He wondered if he would meet her when they landed in Sanctuary. He wondered what he would say if they did.

Turning back to Hailstorm, who was starting to slow down, Winter asked, "Do you remember an old story about... about IceWings being reborn from the ice?"

Hailstorm snorted. "Oh, that old snake's tale? That's just a peasant thing."

 _That revolution started as a peasant thing_ , Winter was tempted to point out. Instead, he asked, "But do you remember how it goes?"

"Hmm." Hailstorm thought for a moment, spinning in the air as he flew. "In the days of the spirits, before the kingdom was a kingdom, dragons would sleep in the great glaciers. Frozen, I guess. And after centuries, they hatched out again and lived new lives. But they always had to give something up, to die in the ice. A piece of their soul, or their frostbreath, or something like that."

Winter frowned. "That's it?"

What a gloomy story. Maybe that was why Icicle liked it. She had always loved creeping him out as a dragonet.

"I told you," said Hailstorm, "it's just a stupid peasant story!" He paused, frowning. "Why did you ask?"

"I don't know." Winter sighed. Then, gazing up at the stars, he tried to hope. Tried to smile. "I sure could go for a few centuries of sleep now," he muttered.

Hailstorm laughed. "You and me both."

On and on they flew. Toward safety, toward freedom. Toward danger, toward change. Toward whatever would happen next. Together, they soared on.


	8. Epilogue

Article from Jade Mountain Weekly:

A CHANGE OF SEASONS FOR THE ICE KINGDOM?

By Fatespeaker (your favorite reporter!)

Troubling news from the Ice Kingdom has revealed that this notoriously cold and secretive tribe is going through great change. Here's the scoop on Queen Snowfall's latest decree, which baffled all of Pyrrhia and sent the IceWings into an uproar.

Investigation continues into the cause of the infamous rebellion that recently sacked the IceWing palace. Last month, this supposedly impenetrable stronghold was thrown into chaos by IceWing rebels! Queen Snowfall insists that this revolt was the work of a dangerous conspiracy and has vowed to bring the claws of justice down on its instigators.

Sources from the Ice Kingdom have confirmed that while only 4 guards died, many more were injured. The number of rebel casualties is believed to be much higher. While the rebels claim that at least 50 of their group were killed, Queen Snowfall denies this and wants to erase all rebel accounts of the revolt from her kingdom.

A rebel IceWing group calling themselves the "Winter Rose" has fled to the neutral territory of Sanctuary, where they have been organizing a resistance and communicating with the IceWing government through allies in the Sand Kingdom. Many suspect these rebels to be at least partly responsible for the attack in the palace. They are currently demanding several radical reforms to the kingdom, including a fairer reorganization of the Circles and more checks on the queen's absolute power.

Former Prince (and former Jade Mountain Academy student) Winter and his brother Prince Hailstorm have both claimed asylum in Sanctuary as well. They are currently living in an undisclosed location that is protected by both the Talons of Peace and the Winter Rose Rebels.

It is unclear what their role was in the recent rebellion, but Queen Snowfall has threatened both with capture and execution if they ever return to the Ice Kingdom. Fortunately for the brothers, many other tribes seem sympathetic to their cause. Queen Thorn has offered her protection to Winter and Hailstorm, and Queen Ruby (purportedly under pressure from her own council) has threatened to send in soldiers if IceWings from either side violate the peace in Sanctuary.

The princes' sister, former princess and escaped prisoner Icicle, remains missing. Icicle is still wanted in the Mud and Ice Kingdoms. She has not been seen since her shocking escape from the once-impenetrable IceWing dungeons. It is still unknown how she escaped.

Meanwhile, the entire Ice Kingdom has been shaken by rebellions across its circles. According to some reports, several noble IceWings have been injured and even killed by angry peasants in the provinces. Several villages have threatened to attack the royal palace itself if Queen Snowfall does not address the demands of the "Winter Rose". In response to this, the IceWing palace has both tightened security and promised that "a great change will happen" by next year's winter solstice.

Queen Snowfall and the IceWing Council have conceded to calling a "Conference of the Circles" which will supposedly allow dragons from every circle to propose their ideas to the queen. It is unclear at the moment whether this event, like its historical precedent from the time of Queen Frostbite, will allow IceWings to actually vote on new laws, or if Queen Snowfall will insist on her rights as sole ruler of the tribe and limit them to mere suggestions. Royalist nobles and outlaw rebels alike have both threatened violence if the Conference is not carried out the way they wish.

All across Pyrrhia, queens and commoners alike wait with bated breath to see if the Ice Kingdom, known as one of the strictest tribes of all, will now allow its subjects a say in their government. Both the Rainforest Kingdom and Sand Kingdom have proposed sending ambassadors into the Ice Kingdom with advice, but so far Queen Snowfall has rejected all of these offers. All dragons who are not IceWings are still barred from the Ice Kingdom by the enchanted Great Ice Wall.

The IceWing rebels now residing in Sanctuary have already met with several advisors from other kingdoms. It is still unknown whether they plan to return to Ice Kingdom for the upcoming event. Though Queen Snowfall has declared all dragons associated with the "Winter Rose" to be outlaws, outraged IceWings from all levels of the Ice Kingdom, including many high-ranked nobles, have called for them to be pardoned and allowed to participate in the Conference of the Circles. Queen Snowfall has yet to respond to these demands.

Only time will tell if this is the beginning of a new age for the IceWings, as many both hope and fear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Fatespeaker here. The author, not the dragon... unless you chose to believe ;D. Thank you so much for all the support and patience (so much patience!) while I FINALLY finished this sequel. Sorry again about all the hiatuses. I'm so happy that I could finally continue Winter's story in my own way.
> 
> Believe it or not, I actually have a pretty big excuse for that huge hiatus. I was writing my first real, original novel! I don't know if I'll really publish it, but the manuscript is done and I'm working on editing. I also just started college, so my real life is kinda crazy now.
> 
> My output here is probably going to stay super sporadic, especially since I plan on moving to another country to study abroad next year (that was supposed to happen this year, but then the pandemic stuff happened and turned the world upside down). Anyway, I still intend to keep writing WoF fanfics, my update schedules are just gonna be even slower. Sorry about that! D:
> 
> Okay, full disclosure here: I actually haven't read any of the third arc yet. I know, I know, how dare I call myself a fan! I really just haven't had the time, and I was kinda mad when I found out the first three books didn't have Fatespeaker in them.
> 
> Since Book 14 is going to be about Snowfall and the Ice Kingdom, I'm pretty sure canon is about to burn all of my Winter fanfics to a crisp. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to see what really happens to my boy Winter in the canon series, it's just a little nerve-wracking knowing I have now gone into the mysterious land of AU. I think this story, and Winter Returning, will definitely become AU when book 14 comes out. So I've decided to call this my "Revolution AU", which is a pretty big hint about what's going to happen next.
> 
> I already have the last big fanfic in this series planned out. That's right, it's a trilogy! Obviously my writing is so slow that I probably won't finish it until after book 14 comes out, but I'm going to try and refrain from reading it/looking up spoilers so that my own AU can be as original as possible. (At least as "original" as a fanfic can be lol)
> 
> I'm also going to publish a short story (a sort of extra epilogue) about Winter, Hailstorm, and Icicle really soon. It's called Sanctuary, and it'll wrap up some loose ends while setting the stage for the my next long fic. It'll also finally share Icicle and Hailstorm's POVs. It's almost done, I swear it won't take a year this time! :P
> 
> As everyone already figured out, my version of the Ice Kingdom is headed toward a big Revolution, something I've been wanting to write about forever. You see, back when I was writing Winter Returning, I based my version of the Ice Kingdom on 18th-century France, which just seemed like the most "IceWing" era I could think of. Then, when I started planning this sequel, I realized that if I was going to write about an IceWing version of France, it would only make sense for them to end up with an IceWing version of the French Revolution.
> 
> Obviously this isn't going to go down exactly like human history, because that would just be really long and depressing. Instead, I'll try to write a cool (get it?) and uniquely IceWing revolution. Hearts will be broken! Morals will be grayed! Subzero will get a cameo!
> 
> I can't promise any guillotines, but I am going to take my Revolution AU in a darker direction than I think the canon series will go. Let's just say I've never been a fan of absolute monarchies, and Winter is about to watch some wild (and bloody) history go down.
> 
> Thanks again, and Vive les IceWings!


End file.
